


Show me a Garden that's Bursting into Life

by Elover05



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashed Gabriel Reyes, Brainwashed Reaper, Could Be Canon, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Moira and Doomfist make brief appearances, Mostly Fluff, and confused old man Gabe, between sombra and Reaper, but with a dash of angst at the end, emotionally stunted characters, featuring:, reaper has emotions and does not know what to do with them, sombra and her collection of cartoon pajamas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elover05/pseuds/Elover05
Summary: Reaper hasn't had emotions for a long time.Sombra is about to change that.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes & Sombra | Olivia Colomar, Sombra | Olivia Colomar & Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Show me a Garden that's Bursting into Life

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be working on other things? Yes! Am I working on other things? No!  
> Enjoy my 2 A.M. story!! <3
> 
> Title is from Chaisng Cars by Snow Patrol.  
> (This story takes place about 6 years before current canon)

Reaper was meeting the new recruit today. Frankly, he didn’t quite understand why they needed a new hacker when they had a whole army of highly trained computer experts. But Doomfist was insistent, having spent almost seven months and a million dollars tracking her down, and another three months and five-hundred thousand dollars to get her to join. Reaper had never seen him so determined to get his hands on a soldier.

But that’s not important. The important thing is that this new recruit was going to be living in the same building as him and Widowmaker. Reaper was not amused.

“I understand your concern, Reaper, but Sombra is going to be a valuable asset on and off the field. And she specifically requested to live with you and Widowmaker,” Doomfist had said.

“So tell her no. You don’t have a problem doing that with the rest of your grunts,” Reaper huffed, his mist beginning to wisp around him like it always did when he was upset.

Doomfist had sighed, sounding defeated in a way that Reaper had never heard. “Sombra is not just a grunt. She’s too valuable to lose. This isn’t up for discussion, Reaper. Stand down.”

He had glanced around the table, hoping for someone to back him up, but Moira had just smiled in that calm way of hers, and Widowmaker was staring straight ahead, awaiting orders. Knowing he wasn’t going to win this fight, Reaper listened, sitting down and silently sulking.

And now, Sombra was arriving. Reaper wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but she definitely wasn’t it. She was younger than he thought she would be, looking to be in her early to mid twenties. That wasn’t what threw him off though; what threw him off was the fact that she was wearing a Hello Kitty set of pajamas, holding a Starbucks coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cupcake in the other.

What on Earth?

Not to mention the glowing pink-ish purple enhancements running along her scalp. The ones that were the opposite of inconspicuous. Especially considering that Doomfist said she was going to be doing a lot of spy work.

How was a spy going to sneak around with glowing, neon pink enhancements?

For a split second, he was reminded of Genji, of his affinity for the glowing green lights that ran along his cybernetics.

Reaper quickly expelled the thought from his mind.

Sombra took a bite from the cupcake, frosting sticking to her face.

Doomfist was the first to break from the shocked silence that Sombra had created. “You’re our new hacker, I presume?”

Sombra looked at him before deadpanning, “No. I’m the pizza woman. I ate your pizza. Sorry.” Then, before anyone could say anything, she waltzed right into their house like she owned the place. “Wow, do you guys not have any decorating skills? I would’ve thought that at least one of you would have been able to make this place look… not hideous.”

Reaper looked around the house, noting for the first time that, yeah, it was kind of ugly. No one had tried to decorate, so the walls were plain, colored a dull grey, the floor was a dark brown, and there was nothing to distract from the unappealing colors.

“If you don’t like it, then leave.” Reaper hissed, approaching Sombra, crossing his arms over his chest, and making sure swirls of mist danced around him. That always helped intimidate people.

“Nah. I’m just thinking, you could’ve at least stuck up a poster or two. But I’ll be fixing that.”

If Reaper wasn’t so good at keeping a neutral posture, he would have stumbled back a few steps.

She wasn’t intimidated by him at all?

Who even was she?

At this point, Reaper’s mists were swirling violently, darkening the room. “Hey, can you stop the whole… misty thing? It’s blocking out the light, and that’s really annoying when I’m daydreaming how I’m going to decorate this place.”

* * *

Sombra followed through on her promise. Reaper had come back from a mission, looking forward to resting in his room. However, when he entered the house, he was bombarded by the scent of paint and the sight of the newly bright walls, which were now a neon purple.

Sombra was standing there, idly running her brush along the wall, humming some song to herself, absolutely covered in paint. Not in the normal way, where she would have a few streaks of it on her clothes. No, her old-looking Powerpuff Girls pajamas were barely visible behind the purple paint.

“What… are you doing?” Reaper asked, too shocked to infuse the usual anger into his voice.

“Redecorating. Wanna help? I’ve got an extra brush!”

The way she said it, so casual, threw Reaper off guard. 

No one ever asked him if he wanted to do something.

(Well, they did, once upon a time, when he was still Gabriel Reyes and had friends and a family and was happy.)

“Why… would I want to do that?”

Sombra considered that, tilting her head slightly. “Because it’s fun. Come on, give it a try!” She held out a brush. Reaper hesitated, before walking past her without a word. “Aww, come on! I know you’re, like, undead, but live a little!”

The next day, the paint job was done. It was horrible, blotchy and bumpy, with several old movie posters hung over the particularly bad spots.

It was more hideous than the original gray.

Reaper tried to ignore the long-forgotten feeling of humor in his chest.

Widowmaker came out of her room, looked at the walls, and promptly raised an eyebrow. It was the most emotion Gabriel had ever seen her display.

“What do you think, Gabe?” Sombra had asked once she came out of her room the next day, face still covered in streaks of paint and sporting Spongebob pajamas.

Reaper froze. “How do you know that name?”

Sombra smirked, looking all too pleased at getting a reaction out of him. “Well, it’s not like you do a good job of hiding it. Not to mention that I have full access to all of Talon’s files.” Reaper was going to have a long talk with Doomfist about the absurd amount of power he let her have. “So you don’t mind if I call you Gabe, right?” She smiled at him, and Reaper found himself trapped.

Either he drew the line at her reminding him of his old life, and revealed his weakness, his vulnerabilities; or he let her pick away at his carefully crafted persona by bringing up the reminders of his past life. So, instead of answering, he growled and stalked past her, mist wisping like crazy in his wake. She kept calling him Gabe.

He didn’t mind it as much as he wished he did.

* * *

One day, when she was wearing Mickey Mouse pajamas, Sombra called Widowmaker ‘Amelie’, and Widowmaker went stiff before heading straight to her room. Reaper glared at Sombra. Sombra observed the recently slammed door to Widowmaker’s room with a grimace. He wondered if she even felt remorse.

Every time Sombra called Widowmaker Amelie, though, the reaction was less severe, until she didn’t react at all.

Reaper wasn’t sure what to think about that.

* * *

Reaper and Widowmaker had… a strange relationship. When he thought about it, they were really quite similar. That didn’t mean they spoke. Unless Reaper had an order or Widowmaker had a report, they stayed in silence, similar, but separate.

“Why do you let Sombra call you Gabe?”

Reaper jumped out of his skin (not that he had real skin anymore) at the French accent from behind him. He knew Widowmaker was there, but he never expected her to speak.

“What?”

“Sombra always calls you Gabe. Why do you let her?”

Reaper paused. It occurred to him that this could be a sign of Widowmaker breaking through her conditioning. This could be a sign that she needed another session with Moira. Reaper knew he should report this.

He also knew that he never would.

“If you find a way to make her stop, please let me know,” he said. Widowmaker didn’t laugh, but the corners of her lips twitched in what could almost be perceived as a smile.

Reaper noticed Sombra leaning against the doorway to the living room, proudly showing off her Steven Universe pajamas, smiling fully. When she noticed his gaze on her, though, she turned it to a smirk. She winked at him, before turning on her heel and walking away.

Reaper didn’t know what to think of anything anymore.

* * *

Reaper walked into the living room one night, and, if he didn’t know better, he would say that Widowmaker and Sombra were having a girls night. There was a tub of ice cream between them, though it looked like Sombra’s side was the only side that had been eaten. Despite Widowmaker wearing her suit like she always did, Sombra was relaxed in her Tom and Jerry pajamas, and she seemed to be attempting to gossip with Widowmaker. Reaper would have assumed the entire thing was one-sided, if it weren’t for the fact that Sombra was painting Widowmaker’s nails, and Widowmaker was letting her.

When she noticed him, Widowmaker instantly snatched her hand back, something akin to fear in her eyes as she stared at Reaper. She was scared he would turn her into Moira, would tell her that the brainwashing was failing, that they needed to start the process again.

Reaper stared at them.

“Wanna join us? Ohh! I could paint your talons! Imagine what I could do with such a big canvas!” Sombra spoke with such enthusiasm, that, for a second, some tiny part of him was almost tempted.

Reaper remembered Fareeha painting his nails once. They had been a light blue color for a week, and he wore it with pride.

He physically shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memories. 

Sombra tilted her head when he did, a calculating look taking over her features. “You okay there, Gabe?”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t join them, but the next day, he helped Widowmaker remove the paint before anyone could see.

* * *

Reaper walked into the living room, expecting silence. Instead, he found Sombra, watching some old sitcom about detectives, dressed in Pink Panther pajamas. She was eating pizza, topped with far too many spicy peppers. 

“Wanna slice?” She asked, glancing down at the pizza.

This was the first time since his old life that someone offered him anything that frivolous. He found himself wanting to say yes.

Unfortunately… “I can’t eat.” That tidbit of information slipped out before he could process the consequences of saying it.

This was it. She was going to realise that he was a monster, she was going to be disgusted and revolted like everyone else. He would lose the one person that treated him like a human.

“Huh. That’s kinda cool,” Sombra remarked.

What?

“Can you drink?”

Reaper shook his head, unsure of what else to do.

"Can you get sick?"

Again, Reaper shook his head.

The rest of the day was spent with her asking dumb questions about his abilities. For some reason, he found himself answering every single one.

* * *

It was supposed to be an in-and-out mission. Kill a few people, gather some information, and leave. Neither of them were supposed to break a sweat. Instead, Sombra was bleeding out from a bullet lodged in her stomach, while Reaper sat next to her, not sure how to comfort her. Not sure why he even wanted to comfort her. His mists were furled protectively around the both of them, as if that would offer protection from the bullet that had already arrived.

When they finally reached the base, Reaper carried her in, not trusting any of the others to handle her. Moira immediately sprang into action, dropping what she was doing to tend to Sombra’s wound. She shooed Reaper out, and he listened, only because he knew if he stayed, Moira would see the emotions that were coming back to him in drowning waves. She would take them away again.

And for the first time in a very long time, Reaper didn’t want her too.

* * *

Reaper walked into Sombra’s medical room. The first thing she said was “I’ve turned off the cameras, so no one’s gonna know if you start crying because you thought you were gonna lose me.” Her words were slurred and giggly, and it was painfully clear that she was on several drugs. Reaper let out a huff of air that might have been a laugh, or might have been a sigh. Who's to say?

“Did you get the information on your documents?” He asked, trying not to let her see the relief that Moira hadn’t messed with her personality like she had with him and Widowmaker.

“I’m offended that you even have to ask. How much do you doubt my skills, Gabi?”

That nickname was new. It threw him off, reminded him of late nights with Ana and Jack and ‘Gabi, you’re amazing!’ and love that he would never feel again.

“I have very little faith in you.” It was meant as a joke, but he wasn’t so sure it came off that way.

But Sombra laughed, a full body laugh that lasted minutes, and ended with her wiping tears from her eyes. Something told Reaper that the drugs really helped with his humor feedback.

“I’m so upset that I’m so drugged that I probably won’t remember you making your first joke!”

The fact that she probably wouldn't remember this gave him the courage to ask, “Why do you call me Gabe?”

Sombra squinted at him. “Because it’s your name, silly!”

“Reaper is my name.” Even as he said it, he knew it didn’t feel right. Not like it once would’ve. Before she came and destroyed what he thought was true.

Instantly, Sombra’s expression became serious, even with the dazed look in her eyes. “Reaper is the name they made you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Did I ever tell you about the second orphanage I ever lived at?” It was such a rapid change of topic that Reaper thought she was drugged enough to forget what they were talking about. Still, he humored her, shaking his head no and gesturing for her to continue. “I grew up in Dorado. Y’know, the really trash city that was destroyed by the Crisis?”

Reaper did know. He went there a few times with Overwatch, had seen the horror that was Dorado. The children running around with gang tattoos, skinny and weak, stealing from pockets and purses just to feed themselves. The rundown buildings, destroyed by bullets and graffiti, always used as makeshift orphanages filled with so many children that they couldn’t possibly care for them all. The guns and drugs and gangs all mixing together in a mess of destruction.

It was the worst place he had ever seen.

He had barely survived the trips.

Sombra had to grow up there. Suddenly, the fact that she was even alive was a miracle.

“The staff, they… they tried their best. But there were too many kids, not enough food. We each got a slice of stale bread a day, sometimes a bruised apple if we were lucky. To make sure they only fed us once a day, they… well… they would scan us.” At the confused tilt of his mask, Sombra lifted her sleeve, revealing what looked like a barcode on her wrist, with the number ‘23’ under it. “They would scan us. I was… ten, at the time? Maybe eleven?”

Even though it wasn’t possible, Reaper felt like he was going to throw up.

“Anyway, that’s what we were to them. Numbers. And after so long being referred to as ‘23’, I stopped feeling like a human, and started feeling like an object.”

Reaper really hoped that was all there was to this story. He didn’t know if he could stomach there being more.

“I think you were the same way. I read your file, I know what happened to you. They took Gabriel Reyes, and treated him like a monster. And you can only treat someone like a monster for so long before they become one. But I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you’re like me.”

Reaper didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something that profound.

Luckily, he didn’t have to, because she broke the silence first. “Well, you know. Like me, but with a much worse fashion sense.”

“Go to sleep, Sombra,” Reaper said, in lieu of an actual response.

“M’kay. G’night.” She said, words beginning to slur more because of the sleep that was creeping up on her. 

“Goodnight,” Reaper whispered, after he was sure she was too far gone to hear him.

And for the first time in a long time, sitting there with a snoring Sombra next to him, he felt like Gabriel.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!! Tell me what you think in the comments! I live for validation!


End file.
